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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824846">Beware the Prince Whom Abdicates His Throne</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven'>MistyBeethoven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or a Picture" [91]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Prince of Pennsylvania (1988)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, BBW, Beaches, Birthday, Birthday Sex, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Love, Love Stories, Motorcycle Sex, Motorcycles, Older Man/Younger Woman, Overweight, Pseudo-Incest, Public Hand Jobs, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shyness, Step-Sibling Incest, Step-siblings, The Little Prince - Freeform, Underage Sex, Weight Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:20:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After my mother marries a retired Pennsylvanian miner named Gary Marshetta, I find myself with two new brothers, one of whom is infamous in town for having kidnapped his own father.</p><p>On my 12th Birthday party, when the legendary Rupert Marshetta returns home, I find myself forging a unique friendship with the equally alone young man despite the difference in our ages.</p><p>Over the years, that friendship grows to an attraction which tempts us to move out of the realm of sibling like closeness to something else entirely...</p><p>However, I soon discover that Princes whom leave their thrones are not likely to ever stay in one place for too long.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gary Marshetta &amp; Roger Marshetta, Gary Marshetta &amp; Rupert Marshetta, Gary Marshetta/Pam Marshetta, Rupert Marshetta &amp; Roger Marshetta, Rupert Marshetta/Me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or a Picture" [91]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beware the Prince Whom Abdicates His Throne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If this seems partly unfinished there is a reason for it: I'll probably be writing a follow up from Rupert's perspective, one including what happened after.</p><p>I wanted to do something different today, to try to break free from my funk. </p><p>This has been brewing since I saw POP. There will be more of what I planned coming up but I didn't reach it and this works prettily as a stand alone. </p><p>Not sure what my mother would think of me having her remarry. The thought seemed to be out of her mind altogether. But I liked the chance to get as close to an incest themed story as I could in the context of the series. I'm fond of those because they are often tales which explore the human heart and its intricacies when faced with a frowned upon love. </p><p>But obviously I'm not related to Rupert Marshetta.</p><p>So this comes close but not quite.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My new stepfather had once been kidnapped by his own son.</p><p>This wasn't a fact that Gary Marshetta, or even my mother for that matter, had told either my sister or myself. We'd heard it at school and around the town. Talk is like that in a small town. It's like the ball in a pinball machine, forever trapped inside of its own small world and bouncing off of every single thing it can, as long as levers, like tongues, keep on moving.</p><p>It seemed that Rupert wanted to run away with his crush, a woman named Carla, whom ran the local drive-in, and he thought that if he kidnapped his dad and had his adulterous mom sell some land to get the ransom money they could then split it and live in peace with their paramours. Problem was, Gary Marshetta had already sold the land and hidden the money away in a port-a-potty down the mine where the eldest Marshetta men worked.</p><p>I'd always known money was <em>dirty</em> but that was probably pushing it to the limit. I have to admit, though, when the mine exploded, that portable shithouse kept it safe. When mom married Gary he'd been pretty well off by the town's standards.</p><p>Rupert fled that same little town, while Gary briefly reunited with his wife, only to find out for himself that he didn't love her as much as when they both were younger. They divorced around the time my mom, sister and I came to town, following my parents own divorce. Gary and my mom soon fell in love and before I knew it I also had two stepbrothers, one known and kind of annoying and the other unknown but rather infamous.</p><p>I found Rupert Marshetta's photograph hidden away in the desk drawer in Gary's den one day while I was bored and looking around. He had a kind face; full of beauty and a goofy charm. Brown eyes, dark hair and a flat out contagious grin. If you looked at it to long you'd find the air hitting your teeth too in no time. I remembered what I'd heard my stepdad telling my mom one day: "I used to see Pam and myself as the King and Queen of Pennsylvania. When Rupert came along,  I thought he'd be the Prince...but he abdicated the throne after breaking my heart..."</p><p>I had caught a reflection of my own face in the glass then, short hair and a bunny rabbit chin on a smiling face.</p><p>In second grade the teacher had chosen me to be the Queen and my best friend, Vanessa, to be the Princess in a class production of "Puss in Boots." My crush, a boy named Jordan, had been chosen to be the Prince and I had had to stand there and watch the fairy tale romance play out between my best friend and crush right there before my envious and sorrowful eyes.</p><p>But I knew I shouldn't really be too upset at my teacher.</p><p>Vanessa and Jordan looked good together: Thin handsome Prince, thin beautiful Princess. Both were picture perfect as opposed to the big girl in her properly <em>Queen</em> sized role.</p><p>My fingertip found my eldest stepbrother's lips and traced them. Looking at Rupert, I could see him being some exiled Prince, off who knew where, making those discoveries, acts and explorations which forced restless souls out of their small towns for bigger and better things.</p><p>But seeing the fat girl in the reflection, I could not see myself as a Princess or step-Princess. I only saw me as a terribly shy girl named Erin.</p><p>Putting the photograph away, I hoped that Gary Marshetta had likewise put away his hopes of his children being Princes and Princesses,  just as he had put away his love for his ex wife and the photograph of his son, whom he obviously still loved but couldn't stand to look at anymore unless it was in secret.</p><p>* * *</p><p>On my twelfth birthday, March 8th 1991, us newly inducted Marshettas received the chance to meet the fallen prince of Pennsylvania. Rupert Marshetta turned up on his motorcycle while I had just finished my Birthday meal and opened all of my presents. It was a small party. I didn't know the kids at my new school well enough to invite them over. Not that anyone would have shown up if they were invited. I was constantly teased for my size, my shyness was mistaken for coldness and everyone had started out thinking I was a boy due to my short hair.</p><p>When the sound of the motorcycle had disturbed the celebration,  it had almost been welcomed because it was different and a <em>surprise</em>, at least.</p><p>"What the hell," Gary had said, flying out of his chair and rushing to the front door.</p><p>Mom was craftier in finding out who it was. She peeked through the front window's curtains, her usual mode of discovery, and stated, "It's Rupert!"</p><p>"Rupert?" Roger Marshetta stated, gleefully shaken from his lethargy to go and meet his brother.</p><p>Tara and I exchanged looks. We'd talked about our unseen stepbrother a few times but were both scared about meeting him in person. When he walked through the door with the other two Marshetta men, I don't think any of us former Smyth females were any less intimidated. Roger seemed excited, though, Gary appropriately pleased but wary and Rupert looked...well his smile was as bright and carefree as the one I'd seen in the photo but his eyes were guarded in their own way. His hair was unique too and not the floppy, shaggy thing from the photograph: it was short on the left side and long on the other.</p><p>I swallowed heavily as I sat on the floor by the coffee table, looking up at my older stepbrother for the first time in person.</p><p>"Rupert," Gary said and started to introduce the three women in the room to his prodigal son. He went in order of age, I guess, starting with mom, then to Tara and finally to me. Rupert took each introduction well and in polite good humor, a handshake with his new stepmom and a nod to his stepsister. When his eyes rested on me, however, his nod hesitated for a second. I stared at him feeling my shyness increasing because he was even more handsome standing a few feet away than he was from his picture. Then his smile grew even wider and I could only look down in my typical avoidance.</p><p>"Looks like I'm interrupting something," Rupert stated, looking at the balloons, streamers and wrapping paper all over the floor.</p><p>"I's Erin's 12th birthday today," Gary stated.</p><p>"She's a <em>big</em> girl now," Roger stated and I knew he wasn't just referring to my age. It looked like he expected his brother to share in the joke but he only gave him an irritated glance.</p><p>"Well, I hate showing up to my <em>new</em> little sister's birthday without a present," Rupert stated. "Sorry."</p><p>"It's okay," I mumbled shyly, not liking having to open my mouth and reveal my braces.</p><p>There was a something written on the young man's face, though, that looked like he wasn't thinking of the steel and wire on my teeth but on the previous topic of conversation.</p><p>* * *</p><p>Later that evening, when I was alone in my room drawing, I heard a knock on the door.</p><p>"Who is it?" I asked, expecting either Gary or Roger because neither mom or Tara ever bothered knocking when they wanted to come into my room.</p><p>"Rupert. You remember, the guy whom was rude and crashed your birthday party? Then made it even worse by not showing up with a present?</p><p>I blushed, wishing it had been my mom or sister; that way I wouldn't have felt so awkward and fat as I climbed out of bed. I walked to the door and opened it to find Rupert standing there with a present hastily wrapped with what was probably the evening paper's comics. "Here," he said, pushing the gift at me. "It's used. Hope you don't mind. Mark it down as history and character."</p><p>He remained standing there, his hands in his pockets and I knew that he was expecting me to open it before he left. I felt horribly self conscious but did it anyway, peeling away the paper to reveal a highly beaten up copy of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's "The Little Prince." Opening the cover to see the inner page, I saw an inscription from Gary to his son:</p><p>
  <em> <strong>"To my own little Prince, love, Dad"</strong> </em>
</p><p>I knew then why the boy had remained: to explain. "Dad gave it to me when I was a kid. It's a good book though, at any age. Even for someone on the dangerous edge of being a <em>teenager</em>."</p><p>"It's yours," I argued.</p><p>"And I know it by heart," the exiled prince smiled. "What? Am I supposed to keep it to give to my children? I'm not planning on having any. I've seen how seriously mucked up that can get. Maybe you can give it to yours."</p><p>I met his eyes and tried to offer him a smile. "Thank you," I stated meekly.</p><p>"You're welcome, Erin," he replied with a nod. "Happy Birthday."</p><p>He offered me another nice smile before walking down the hallway and to the spare room I had felt Gary had always kept waiting incase he ever showed up.</p><p>I returned to my bed and looked at the book. I'd seen a claymation cartoon adaption of it before, but that was the extent of my knowledge of it. I'd also forgotten how it ended. Pushing my sketch of a unicorn over to the side, I started to read the book. I was almost done by the time mom came in to say goodnight and was finished before I said my prayers. Before I knelt beside my bed, I placed "The Little Prince" by my copy of Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Little Princess." I then thanked God for my family and the book, the lovely day and the addition of my stepbrother, quickly adding the request that if He didn't mind too much, if Rupert Marshetta could stay a little while longer.</p><p>* * *</p><p>God fulfilled my prayer for about a month.</p><p>That was about as long as it took before the arguments Rupert would get into with his father got to be too much and he left. It was always hard to say whom was wrong and whom was right when they got to warring like that. It switched, driving home the fact to me that a human being seemed capable of being both smart and stupid all at once, like being right was another pinball that hit you sometimes and missed you others.</p><p>Gary seemed to want Rupert to <em>stay</em>.</p><p>Rupert wished to <em>go</em>.</p><p>I agreed with the father on this one in my selfishness, because I truly liked Rupert Marshetta. But I knew that it was best for my older stepbrother to leave if that was what he wanted.</p><p>We shared a solitary goodbye in the garage before he left. I thankfully caught him before he drove away on his bike. He saw I was close to crying and seemed upset himself. Even though Roger was his biological brother and they had known each other far longer, teenager that Roger was, he had soon lost interest in his returned older brother and had chosen to be with his friends instead. Liking Rupert, I'd found myself in his company quite often, especially whenever Tara was busy watching MTV for the latest music video by Roxette. We hadn't done too much other than talk a little about poetry and books. Sometimes Rupert lett me watch him fool around with his bike. Once he'd even taken me to the dump to look for cool items to decorate the garage with. They surrounded us now as we exchanged our goodbyes, old statues, licence plates and an old artificial Christmas tree.</p><p>"I have to leave, you get that right?" he asked, seeing the tears in my eyes.</p><p>"Yes," I said. "Oh, everything here seems like the stupid pinball machine my dad used to have in the basement!" I suddenly exclaimed.</p><p>He looked at me genuinely confused and I tried to explain it better for him. "Now you're the shiny ball about to fall down and out of my life..." I tried to be brave and meet his gaze adding, "Game over."</p><p>Understanding a little more, Rupert smiled. He touched my nose. "I'll be back. I haven't saved up enough cash yet to see the world like I want."</p><p>While the thought of Rupert heading to Europe or Asia and being that far away frightened me, the knowledge that he was returning made me feel better. I surprised myself when I threw my arms around him. "Fuck, Erin, you're making this awful difficult to go," he said before hugging me tightly.</p><p>So tightly infact that I had hoped my large weight might keep him grounded there.</p><p>I was wrong though. He suddenly let me go, I stumbled back from the shock of the absence of his arms and then Rupert Marshetta left me without turning once to look back.</p><p>* * *</p><p>It was like that most of the time Rupert rode in and out of our lives.</p><p>He always found his way back near my birthday and a few times before then. But then he would be gone again. Even when Gary softened in his way towards his wandering son and stopped pestering Rupert as much, it wasn't long before I'd lose my favorite stepbrother.</p><p>"I love your back," I told him with a braces free mouth one sunny summer day when we had taken me to the beach. We'd found a place which was practically deserted. His body was striking in a black pair of trunks while I sat on a towel on the beach in an oversized t shirt and one piece on my less than striking body, watching him repeatedly go into the water to swim out and swim back.</p><p>"But I don't know why you want to show it to me so much," I complained.</p><p>He'd just told me he was leaving me again and this was to be our goodbye party.</p><p>Rupert fell on to the towel, wet and smiling. "So you like my back, huh?"</p><p>I pouted, resting my cheek on my tented knees, facing away from him and feeling like I'd given too much of my sixteen year old self away. I was glad I had decided to grow my hair out; it gave me an extra shield to hide behind.</p><p>"Can I see yours?" he joked, grabbing the edge of my baggy t-shirt. "I've never <em>once</em> seen you in your swimsuit, though we've been here a hundred times."</p><p>"Your math's off," I said and stood up to protect myself from his teasing fingers. "I don't see you nearly that much."</p><p>I tried to walk away, feeling in a bad mood, ashamed of my weight and sad that he was about to leave me alone again. But Rupert Marshetta was in too good of a mood to let me go that soon. The water had made him full of energy and boyish high spirits. He grabbed me from behind and lifted me up.</p><p>I made one surprised noise before Rupert, laughing loudly, lifted me up into the air. I kicked my legs in the air before I felt him lying me gently on a nearby sand dune. "Aha!" he said, grabbing the edge of my tshirt.</p><p>His eyes locked with mine as he continued to tease me, pulling it upward. I was aware of his body over mine, of his chest of his fingers. "Don't," I begged, feeling warm in the place between my legs, more from his nearness than the sun. It was a heat that seemed to shine within me. Rupert's eyes fell to my large chest, rising and falling noticeably from my spreading arousal. His stare made the heat grow and my nipples began to tingle from his stare. Rupert seemed shocked at the heaving at first and the fact that my nipples were becoming obvious on each mound. Then his shock vanished and he became hypnotized. "Please don't," I said, feeling pressure flooding down below from the look in his eyes.</p><p>Rupert shook his head a few times, his hair (still done in that awkward mohawk) bobbing as he came to his senses, his eyes still trying not to return to what had intrigued them before. "I'm sorry," he apologized, letting go of the edge of my t-shirt and pulling it down into place. His knuckles brushed my thighs and he looked more ashamed than ever as I felt something give a twitch and clench inside of me.</p><p>"I was just kidding...you know, I'd never," Rupert apologized and I wasn't sure he was only talking about threatening to remove my cover shirt or something else. "You're my <em>sister</em>, for fuck's sake..."</p><p>He turned around quickly, avoiding the chance of seeing me now. He seemed so tormented then and full of self hatred, I sat up and held him from behind. "I know you wouldn't," I said, pressing my cheek into the back I had admired for so long like and hated to see driving or walking away. I didn't mention the fact that I wouldn't mind if he did. "You're my favorite brother."</p><p>Rupert laughed. "Well, Roger can be a shit when he wants to be. I don't know what happened. Guess he misses mom."</p><p>I frowned. I was glad that when Roger had left for college he had hardly ever come back to see us. "How is your mom anyway?" I asked.</p><p>"Not good, I think," Rupert replied. "She found out that a guy that cheats when his wife is pregnant isn't likely to stay faithful...I think she misses dad."</p><p>"Everybody misses someone," I commented and held Rupert Marsgetta a little tighter.</p><p>* * *</p><p>I met Pam Marshetta before I saw her son again.</p><p>She moved back into town and Gary introduced her to Tara and I when we saw her outside of the house. I guessed mom had already met her; the two women seemed uncomfortable around one another and I was just glad when the unexpected introduction was over.</p><p>I saw her again a few weeks after, alone, at the local supermarket. We were both down the canned vegetable aisle. She looked at me as I shyly was studying the peas. "My Rupert likes you," she remarked.</p><p>"I like Rupert too," I replied, thinking of our childhood books sitting side by side on my shelf.</p><p>"When I see you, he <em>always</em> mentions you..."</p><p>"That's nice," I said and then wanted to kick myself. It was more than nice but what else was I supposed to say about the stepbrother I saw for about five week long visits a year and then disappeared, leaving me to think about him for the other forty-seven weeks in the year?</p><p>Oh yeah, there <em>was</em> something else.</p><p>"How is he doing?" I asked the question which always haunted me.</p><p>"Okay," Pam said with a shrug. "He's smart, <em>real</em> smart but doesn't know where he wants to be. He's washing dishes in New York now. Give him a few days...he'll be a roadie for a hard rock band."</p><p>I thought of a pinball being shot around again...or a Prince whom left behind his throne but found every other chair in the world just as uncomfortable.</p><p>"I hope I'll see him on my Birthday," I said, thinking how March was luckily coming up.</p><p>"Oh, I'm sure you will," Pam Marshetta said, a secret little smile on her face.</p><p>* * *</p><p>The day I turned seventeen, Rupert Marshetta did show up. He brought with him the same old motorcycle, strange haircut, combat boots and infectious smile. There was no present or card in his hands though and I didn't understand until he came and collected me in my bedroom late at night was he was doing.</p><p>"C'mon," he whispered. "Get dressed. I gotta take you somewhere."</p><p>I threw on some clothing and let my stepbrother drag me out of the house. I sat behind him on his Norton all the way to Pam's house. I could still remember the first time he had let me ride on it and how mad mom had been. She called motorcycles donor bikes and hated the thought of me being near one, let alone on the back of one. It had been the cause of a fight between her and Gary first and then Gary and Rupert next.</p><p>But I <em>loved</em> it.</p><p>I held out my arms, smiled and hollered, almost catching Rupert's laughter in my mouth too as it was carried to me on the wind.</p><p>"I remember the first time I met you..." Rupert shouted out. "You looked so fucking scared...it was the same look I'd see on rabbits and deers I'd come across on the highway. Now look at you! Seventeen years old and...<strong><em>YEEEAAAHHH</em></strong>!"</p><p>I laughed and then embraced my stepbrother, kissing his back, carefree, happy and content.</p><p>The Norton pulled up in front of a small house I recognized immediately.</p><p>When the owner opened the door following Rupert's impatient knocking, I watched as mother and son had a heartfelt reunion and shared a warm hug themselves.</p><p>"Erin, I know you've met my mom, but do you also know that she is the premiere palm reader in Shithole, PA?"</p><p>I shook my head and was soon pushed inside by Rupert Marshetta to have my fortune told, what I assumed was my birthday present. "Mom used to do this all the time for me when I was younger," Rupert said, sitting up on a barstool by the kitchen counter while I sat with Pam at the table.</p><p>"He's exagerating," Pam said wryly. "But I'll do it anyway."</p><p>She sat and examined my hand and fingers for a length of time that made me worry she had spotted something wrong with me. I glanced over my shoulder at Rupert only to find him staring at me intently. Being caught made him look about as self concious as I felt and I think we both were glad when Pam finished and started to talk. "Well, you appear to have a considerate, open and kind heart but are <em>cautious...</em>you don't want to be hurt. Your fate seems to predict being known outside of this crummy place and your life line shows that you should watch out for your heart. Especially when it comes to good looking men whom come in and out of your life, showing no consideration."</p><p>She tossed her son another glance, almost in mock warning.</p><p>"Okay, mom," he said, hopping off from the stool. "Time's up. That's all I paid for."</p><p>"Ha," she laughed. "You didn't pay me anything."</p><p>"Thanks," I told her, as Rupert gripped my shoulders and pulled me up out of the chair.</p><p>"I mean it," she cried out. "Watch out for your heart! Guys have a habit of breaking them; I should know."</p><p>Rupert took me out of the house and back to his bike. "Thanks for the gift," I said smiling.</p><p>"That was only part of it," he informed, pulling out a small black box from his unbuttoned coat's pocket.</p><p>He handed it to me and when I opened it, I found a braclet with a red rose charm attatched to it.</p><p>"It's beautiful," I said, thinking of a Prince and his rose.</p><p>"I saw it and thought of you," Rupert confessed, shoving his hands into his pockets.</p><p>I placed it around my wrist under his gaze. Our eyes locked afterwards and I felt shy again. "Your mom hates this town," I stated. "Why did she ever come back?"</p><p>"She finally realized that she does love dad," he revealed. "Even if it is too late."</p><p>"Should my mom be worried?" I asked.</p><p>Rupert shrugged sheepishly. "I kind of wish she should," he confessed.</p><p>"Why?" I asked, horrified by his reply.</p><p>"Because then you wouldn't be my sister," Rupert Marshetta confessed and I felt Pam's prediction about my heart being in danger was very real.</p><p>We stared at each other for a little while longer until a car passing disturbed us from it. "I'd better take you back," Rupert said, rubbing the back of his head.</p><p>When I climbed back on to the motorcycle and Rupert pulled out onto the road, the wind was colder and I felt him shiver.</p><p>"Cold?" I asked, holding him closer.</p><p>"I guess," he replied.</p><p>He was so close and I could smell his familiar scent mixed with the smell of his beloved bike. My thoughts returned to a much warmer day at the beach when Rupert Marsgetta had been equally near to me.</p><p>Knowing what I was doing and being completely shocked by it at the same time, my hands crept lower to the man's fly on the other side.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Rupert asked, his voice startled, following the sound of his zipper being pulled down.</p><p>"I'm warming you up," I said my hand disappearing into his jeans and the flap of his underwear to find his penis.</p><p>Rupert zigzagged on the street as I attempted to masturbate him while he rode on his motorcycle. His was the first penis I had ever touched in my life and it felt so oddly soft even while it was becoming stiff. "ERIN, STOP IT!" Rupert shouted harshly. He pulled the Norton over to the side of the deserted road and I was so scared I was about to be lectured for being perverted and dirty that I was crying as I lifted my hand off reluctantly from the swelling organ.</p><p>"NO!" Rupert said, almost violently grabbing my hand.</p><p>I thought that he was going to throw my hand away completely, swat it or keep it as far away from his dick as he could but after a few seconds either his hand got tired from being held up in the air for so long or he proved to me that I was wrong.</p><p>"Like <em>this</em>," he said instead, bringing my hand to his mouth.</p><p>He spit onto the palm. Not a little accumulation of saliva but every single drop he seemed to have in his mouth. He unleashed it onto my palm, landing right in the centre, warm and wet and gooey in that way spit always seemed to me. Afterwards he returned the now prepared palm, the same one his mother had just read a few minutes ago, to his still partly hard cock.</p><p>He gently wrapped my fingers around his shaft, his own hand still held gently over mine, and began to run it up and down his length. The piece of flesh responded from the motion now more readily, my hand slicked enough to slide more easily over his length which was growing and filling out more with each repeated journey. Rupert's breathing became odd and I looked to the mirror to catch sight of his expression. His eyes were closed and he looked one third in pleasure, a third in pain and that last bit in peace. Seeing his face made me pump him quicker or slower depending on what his features told me. I must have done <em>something</em> right because soon the hot organ in my hand began to twitch and spasm and I felt it spurting out liquid just as the young man had done when he spit into my palm. I tried to catch it in my free hand but there was so much. The moment he came, a noise of release erupted from his throat, as if he had been needing, <em>longing</em> for this for a while. But when he opened his eyes to see the result of his outpouring he seemed surprised.</p><p>"Shit," Rupert stated. "I wasn't ready."</p><p>There were flecks of his ejaculation all over the different parts of his motorcycle and I watched him staring at them in the mirror, this look of dazed bliss mingled with annoyance on his face. He abruptly looked into the mirror and from his angle I knew he saw me. Our eyes met again and Rupert looked very guilty and ashamed suddenly.</p><p>That shame was unwelcomed.</p><p>"Make love to me," I requested suddenly. "I want you to make love to me, Rupert."</p><p>"You're too young," he argued, his cum dripping between my fingertips.</p><p>"I'm old enough," I countered, kissing his back. "Look what we just did."</p><p>"That was a mistake," he said, grabbing my dirty hands suddenly and wiping them off on his sleeve. "You touching me is different...me doing that with you...I might hurt you; Erin, I don't want to hurt you."</p><p>"I'm too fat," I said, insecure that he would accept my hands but not the rest of me.</p><p>"No!" he said again, shooting the very idea down. "You're perfect the way you are...but I've never been perfect. I've always been weird."</p><p>"Not to me," I whispered.</p><p>The gunk off of my hands, Rupert Marshetta kissed them sweetly, tenderly, letting his lips touch both the heart and life lines.</p><p>He turned around on the motorcycle to look at me. His stare was imploring and desperate and I understood that he wanted me but couldn't let himself have me. He couldn't fuck me up by fucking me. I pressed my forehead to his and we sat like that for a few minutes, wanting to kiss but not being able to. For both of us, a real kiss seemed far more strangely intimate than what we had just done.</p><p>"I think I'm in love with you," he whispered so low the sound of the night breeze almost stole it.</p><p>"Then that's the third and greatest gift you gave me tonight," I whispered back. "Because I love you too."</p><p>* * *</p><p>I hardly slept all night, reliving constantly what had happened with Rupert on that beautiful bike. Infact, I found myself crawling out of bed and sneaking to his bedroom, hoping we could talk about it, something he had not wanted to do after our reciprocated declaration.</p><p>But when I knocked on his door for about three minutes and finally opened it, I found it empty.</p><p>Well, not quite.</p><p>Lying on his bed was the birthday card he had forgotten to give me with a hastily scrawled poem.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>"I'm sorry I was a geek,</strong> </em><br/>
<em> <strong>With you behind me, I was weak,</strong> </em><br/>
<em> <strong>Guess, I'm just a freak,</strong> </em><br/>
<em> <strong>Wish you weren't so meek."</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Love,</strong> </em><br/>
<em> <strong>your,</strong> </em><br/>
<em> <strong>Rupert</strong> </em>
</p><p>Reading the poem over about a half a billion times, I sat down on the edge of the bed and held the card to my chest, one side touching my heart line while the other side, the one bearing the poem, rested against my heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear Keanu;</p><p>As for yesterday's note...</p><p>I have tried to find the answer to my question. A few weeks back, I even tried to vaguely ask a tarot reader. But all I heard back was silence. I gave myself my own online tarot reading, asking for God's help and came up with these cards:</p><p>The magician<br/>Stars<br/>Sun<br/>Moon<br/>The Empress<br/>The Hanged man</p><p>Is that good? I can't tell? :/</p><p>Online magic 8 ball, though, kept telling me "yes" to my question.</p><p>On that same track, I tried to do a palm reading for this but wasn't sure what I was doing! :O</p><p>You believe in astrology from what I have read...I've mentioned we either get good or bad depending on the reviewer: virgin and fish, dragon and goat...</p><p>But you have a good track record with us Pisces. </p><p>I heard I have things to teach you...and you have things to teach me. Believe me...I make a very good student and I'm willing to learn. </p><p>And I'm not aghast at a little old fashioned punishment if I get something wrong, if you know what I mean! ;D</p><p>Much love,<br/>Erin<br/>XO XO<br/>:D &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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